The Kindness of Strangers (Skip Langdon Mystery #6) (The Skip Langdon Series) (28 page)

She thought,
I’m a pretty docile lay myself,
and she hated herself for getting hooked. She knew perfectly well what he saw in the girl. If he’d been her client he’d have been as transparent as a fishpond—with someone that young, he’d be a hero, he’d always be in control, he’d always be right, he’d be worshiped, he could do no wrong, he could dominate her utterly.

How strange,
she thought.
He’s passive as hell with me.

He said, “I don’t think I can explain it. We’re soulmates, that’s all.” He grinned. “Isn’t it ironic? What a weird twist of fate I had to get one who’s fifteen. I mean, it’s not like I asked for this.”

“You idiot!” She picked up the knife and raised it, blind with rage, not at his infidelity, but at his inconceivable stupidity. Furious with herself as well—for failing to see what a perennial adolescent he was, for getting involved with someone so passive, so unformed.

“Watch it, Boo! Watch it, watch it!” He grabbed her wrist and the knife fell. He stepped back, staring at her as if she were a murderer.

For Christ’s sake. He looks like he’s got a two-figure IQ, and for all I know he has.

She hated him. Without realizing what she was doing she balled up her hands and threw herself at him, pounding on his chest as hard as she could.

He didn’t do anything. Didn’t raise a hand to stop her, didn’t open his mouth, just stood there and let her pound. She found it curiously unsatisfying.

“Goddammit, fight back.”

He sighed. “I guess I deserve it.”

“Damn right you deserve it.” She was just getting down to the second level of what this thing meant—it not only meant her marriage was over, her husband was an adolescent, it meant…

“Oh, shit. You bastard.” She pounded harder, beginning to enjoy it, especially as he was finally wincing.

When you got right down to it, it meant he’d seduced a child.

“I can never trust you with Joy! I can’t even leave your own daughter alone with you.”

He caught her wrist. “Joy? What does she have to do with this?”

“She’s a child. Obviously you’re attracted to children, and you have no impulse control.”

“She’s a baby, for Christ’s sake!”

She pulled away from him. “Where do you draw the line, Noel?”

“What?”

“You heard me. I said, where do you draw the line?”

“You vindictive bitch!” He stepped toward her, looking around, she thought, for a weapon. Frightened, she stepped back.

But he didn’t so much as raise his arm. He let his shoulders sag, turned around, and left by the front door.

Chapter Nineteen

STEVE WAS IN the courtyard when Skip arrived home from Savannah. He had changed to khaki shorts, found himself a Turbo Dog, and was drinking it with Angel at his feet.

He got up as she came in, ready to engulf her. “You look better.”

“Better than what?”

“Better than a rag, a bone, and a hank of hair.”

“I was that bad?”

“Worse. I’m just too polite to mention it.”

“Then I guess I am better.” She stepped into his arms. Angel’s tail thumped against her legs as she and Steve kissed. “I really think I am.”

“Shall we go inside?”

“Does that mean what I think?”

“Happy women turn me on.” He held up the beer. “Besides I’ve had two of these. I have no inhibitions.”

“Better seize the day, then.” She was surprised at how much the idea of making love appealed to her.

Steve walked behind her to the second floor and when they were in her bedroom, it was she who moved toward him, propelled by a sudden electric surge.

“You smell like beer,” she said, the instant before their lips met.

Steve broke away. “I’ll brush my teeth.”

“No. I like it. I want you now.”

He took on a mischievous look. “Maybe we should wait till tomorrow. Think how great it’ll be in a hurricane.”

“We’ll try it both ways.” She had a hand under his T-shirt, feeling the depression of his spine, pushing his body closer to hers. She hadn’t felt like this in months, not since …

Since I fell into the depression.

But what the hell, I used to smoke pot when I got depressed. Sex is healthier.

She let him bend her backward so that they were lying on the bed, his body on top of hers. “Take your shirt off.”

He stood up and obeyed. He was a large man, several inches taller than her own six feet, and he was well filled- out—a bear, Jimmy Dee called him. He had a good coat of fur on his chest, and apparently knew it. He posed for a moment, letting Skip absorb the effect.

She said, “Come here, bear.”

He straddled her, a hand closing over each breast, obeying but doing it his way. She stared at him as he caressed her, their eyes locked, and when he said, “Show me,” she took off her T-shirt and bra.

His mouth closed over her nipple, and she felt herself slide into a different consciousness. She had always hallucinated when they made love, and this time she saw a river of honey flowing in a ruby canyon, felt herself flowing with it, falling over the edge as the honey reached the end and cascaded downward, riding on it, tossed gently, as if by soft breezes and waves, face glowing in the warm sun.

Steve took off his khaki shorts. She couldn’t believe he still had them on. She had been in another world.

She went away again. She could have sworn she could taste honey, but it was probably Turbo Dog, she thought, holding Steve’s shoulders with her right arm, not letting him get off her.

“You missed me,” he said.

“What makes you think that?”

“We were due at Jimmy Dee’s five minutes ago.”

She bit his ear. “You’re lying.”

“No, I mean it.”

“Damn.” She let him go, wriggled out from under, and reached for the phone. “Dee-Dee, listen …”

“Are you going to be the teeniest bit late? You young people have fun now.” He hung up.

Steve looked at her quizzically.

“He was pretty understanding. Want to flip for the shower?”

“You go first. You probably want to wash your hair.”

Later, as she was drying it, and Steve was unpacking, he asked her about Jacomine. She told him what Alice Sherman had said. “It kills me. Every day I become more and more convinced he’s dangerous as a scorpion. But I can’t seem to get anything Jane can print.”

“Why don’t you just give the stuff to Perretti?”

“For one thing, I don’t like him.”

Steve nodded.

“For another, I’m still a police officer. Which means I can’t work for a political candidate. Even if I wasn’t working for him when I did the investigation, I don’t see how I could suddenly turn over my results to him.”

“On the other hand if you don’t do something, a maniac is going to be elected mayor.”

“Well, that’s my dilemma. You think I was depressed before…”

He was serious a moment. “Hey. Did you find a new therapist?”

“I didn’t look. Wait a minute! I bet I could go back to Boo.”

“This is moving too fast for me.”

“Her husband was Jacomine’s press secretary. But Jane Storey just told me he quit.”

“Listen, maybe you should get together with the husband. He must have quit for a reason.”

She considered. “Not a bad idea—Jane’s probably all over him, but I’m sort of a friend of the family; that might help.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s go, though. Dee-Dee’s probably getting restless.”

“Half-drunk,” Jimmy Dee said when they arrived. “I find a glass of wine distracts from restlessness. On the other hand, it has a price.”

Skip’s head swivelled. “Where’s Layne?”

Dee-Dee turned his palms up, casual, but there was a catch in his voice: “The Angel problem. He can handle about an hour, so he’s coming for dessert.”

“I really must get those witches on this.”

“ ‘Eye of newt and toe of frog. Wool of bat and tongue of dog.’”

Steve said, “Is that what we’re having for dinner?”

“We are having my justly famous couscous.”

“Funny, you’ve never mentioned it before.”

“I’ve never made it before. But it will be famous, I’m quite sure. Kenny will tell all his little friends how awful it is.”

She said “The kids are joining us?”

“Kenny’s desperate to see Steve. I hope you don’t mind. And I’m trying to teach Sheila manners.”

Steve said, “Kenny wants to see me?”

“Frankly, I think he wants an update on Napoleon.”

When they were all seated and Kenny had been filled in on Steve’s German shepherd, Jimmy Dee said, “How’s L.A.?” in a way that made Skip suspicious.

He and Steve had never really hit it off—out of jealousy, she was pretty sure—but things had gotten better after Layne came on the scene. Still, Skip wouldn’t have expected the line of questioning she thought he was about to pursue.

“Same old rat race,” said Steve.

“Still thinking about moving to New Orleans?”

I was right. I must really be pathetic if Dee-Dee thinks he can’t take care of me himself.

“I just have to salt away a few more pennies, and then I think it’s really going to happen.” Steve was a documentary filmmaker who’d one day stumbled into a lucrative career as a film editor—a career he wanted to milk thoroughly before making the move he’d long talked about.

“Phooey,” said Kenny. “Napoleon’s probably dying to come back—it’s his home town.”

“Yeah, he mentions it pretty often. Actually, I might be able to come for a few weeks now and then if I get my new project going.”

Sheila said, “May I be excused?”

“Sheila, we just sat down.” Dee-Dee couldn’t keep the impatience out of his voice.

“Look, my plate’s clean.” She held it up. “It was delicious, Uncle Jimmy.”

“You must want something.”

“No, I liked it. Honest. But—you know—dinner was way late and I have homework.”

Kenny said, “Me, too?”

“Okay, then. Since you ask so nicely.”

When they had gone, he shrugged. “What are you gonna do—chain ‘em to a chair?”

Skip said, “Well, anyway, they made a clean getaway. Manners lessons workin’ out.”

“Am I a great father or what?” He looked the slightest bit smug. “It was easy. I promised to send them to manners camp if they didn’t shape up.” He looked at his watch. “May I be excused, too? I need to call Layne.”

An hour and a half later, full of couscous and Jimmy Dee’s chess pie, feeling mellow and talkative, Skip and Steve returned to the garconnière. They sat on Skip’s bed, cross-legged, facing each other. Steve took her hand. “You seem almost… okay.”

She pulled back, slightly embarrassed. “Nothing like building up a good head of anger to make you forget your troubles.”

“I guess the shrink knew what she was doing.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? I could have done volunteer work—or come out to L.A. to visit you…”

“A great idea.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, there’s a million things I could have done, but I didn’t have the energy or the inclination.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“I can’t help it. If I could have, I would have. I just couldn’t move. Have you ever been that way?”

“When I’ve had the flu.”

“It was like that. It seems so strange that getting good and mad is the only thing that could get me out of it.”

“Oh, come on, it isn’t only that. You’re trying to prevent something terrible.”

“Mighty Mouse, that’s me.”

“‘Tell me something. Do you ever think about…”

“Shavonne crawling across the floor?” She felt her eyes close for a moment. “Yes. I still do. What’s that?”

“It sounds like someone knocking.”

“Dee-Dee!” She stepped onto the balcony. “What is it?”

“Can we come in a minute?” Layne was with him.

As she opened the door, he said, “Guess who’s missing?”

“Well, not Kenny. Must be Little Miss Manners, who really liked the couscous—’honest’.”

He put a hand to his head. “How could I have been so dumb?”

“I would’ve fallen for it. I mean, I did.”

“What do you think I ought to do?”

“I don’t think she’s run away, Dee-Dee. Remember how she said, ‘dinner was way late’? She must have had a date.”

“A date! She’s supposed to get picked up at the house.”

“Maybe she thinks the guy’s socially unacceptable.”

“You mean like, my age, say? A pervert? It’s that damned teenage computer conference—she probably met some pedophile.”

Layne said, “James, will you calm down? She’s only been missing an hour or two. She’ll probably be home by midnight.”

Skip nodded. “We’ll go stay with Kenny while you take Layne home. That’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

Dee-Dee nodded.

“And if she’s not home by the time you get back, I honestly think the best thing is just to go to bed—and give her what-for in the morning.”

“What-for indeed. She’s grounded till the next century.”

* * *

“‘Torian! Come down, quick! Somebody to see you.” Paulette sounded unlike herself, almost frightened.

Torian thought: The Rev again? She was reading in bed, wearing a T-shirt and panties, Faylice asleep in the next bed. She didn’t answer, not wanting to wake her roommate, just pulled on yesterday’s shorts and hit the stairs.

“Sheila!” Torian’s bare feet moved so fast the worn carpet burned them. She’d never seen Sheila like this, hair unkempt, cheeks wet from crying. “Sheila, what is it?”

Sheila glanced at Paulette and didn’t answer, just threw her arms around her friend. “Oh, Torian, I’m so stupid.”

Torian also looked at Paulette, but not distrustfully— beseechingly. She couldn’t imagine anything happening to Sheila. What on Earth should she do? For the moment, she just held her.

When Sheila pulled away, Torian said, “This is Paulette. She’s so cool.” And then she noticed her friend’s jaw was swollen. “What’s this?” Impulsively, she touched it.

Sheila winced.

Paulette didn’t offer to shake, didn’t even acknowledge the introduction, simply said, “Honey, you need a place to stay?”

“Yes! Can I really stay here?”

Torian was going crazy. “Sheila, what’s wrong?”

Paulette said, “Better get some ice on that. Come on. Let’s go on in the kitchen. I’ll make y’all some hot chocolate.”